His Seven Sins
by Believe-in-Teyla
Summary: What could possibly make Draco Malfoy realise that Hermione Granger has more effect on him than he thinks? Comes before "Her Seven Virtues" and "Their Seven Stages".


**Author Note:_ The concept of this story came to me randomly at work today and although I started writing it, I first believed that I would get absolutely no where with it. However, after 5 hours of writing, this is what came of it and I didn't think it was all that bad... so I hope you don't mind it either!!! _**

**_It was originally going to be written in 7 parts but as I wrote it I realised that it wasn't really necessary for the storyline I had formulated so I made it a long one-shot whose sequences have been divided accordingly..._**

**His Seven Sins**

**_SLOTH..._**

It was early one spring afternoon and Draco Malfoy was spread out on the couch in the Slytherin common room. Very few people chose to bother him; he looked so damn peaceful and they knew that if they tested him they would find themselves facing his wrath.

Pansy sat on the floor beside him, her back rested against the side of the couch as she curled her long black hair around her finger, letting out soft disgruntled groans every time one didn't stay in place. She knew that she needed her wand to keep them looking gorgeous but she didn't currently have it on her; it was sitting on a table some two metres away.

"Draco," she simpered, not bothering to look at him. "Can you get me my wand?"

"No," Draco drawled. "I don't believe I can."

"But your closer!" Pansy complained.

"But I'm too comfortable to move, Parkinson," Draco said, shifting just a little on the cushions behind him. "It'll take all afternoon to find this position again; it'll take much less time if you get up and get it."

Pansy huffed and went back to curling her hair around her finger. It just wasn't working.

"Draco," she simpered after another fifteen minutes of not succeeding with what she wanted to do. "Do _you_ have your wand on you?"

"Yes, Parkinson, I do," Draco replied, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling of being relaxed. "However, I honestly can't be bothered reaching for it."

"What if Potter came storming into the room to perform Avada Kedavra?" Pansy questioned. "You'd reach for your wand then wouldn't you?"

"No, I don't suppose I would," Draco drawled. "Potter may very well be the death of me today."

Pansy pouted and let out a sulky sigh. "I want to curl my hair!"

"Then get your wand, Parkinson!" Draco shifted again, wishing the annoying girl would leave him to his relaxation. "It's only a metre from you."

"But you're closer!"

"But I have no need to grab it!" Draco hissed. "You do so you should grab it."

Pansy gave another huff and groaning she leaned forward, trying desperately to grab the wand that still sat over a metre away.

"I can't reach it!"

"Get off your lazy arse then!"

Pansy whimpered and moved onto her knees. In three struggled crawl lengths, she was able to grab her wand. Scooting back to her spot, still whimpering, she restlessly shuffled around in her place before letting out a sob.

"Now I can't get comfortable!" she complained loudly.

Draco opened his eyes and contorted his face into a sneer. How the girl could infuriate him. "Just get as comfortable as you can, Parkinson, or I will find the energy to draw my wand!"

Pansy automatically stopped fidgeting and went to work on her hair. Draco was in a pleasant doze when she shrieked his name again.

"Draco!" she cried. "Draco! Can you do the back of my hair?"

Draco opened his eyes, counted to three in his head and turned to look at her. She looked like one of the ugly dolls his mother collected.

"Get a mirror and do it yourself, Parkinson," he said. "I do not have the patience for such tedious activities."

"But it'll look really good if you do it!" she simpered. "Please, Draco, I'll let you share my –"

"I honestly do not want to know what you plan to share with me, Parkinson," Draco snarled. "Now do your hair yourself. You're going to look ridiculous no matter how well you do it!"

Pansy sobbed but let Draco regain relaxation.

The room was silent until Draco let out a groan and realised he needed to eat.

"Pansy go get me a plate from the Great Hall," Draco demanded. "Make sure you fill it with potatoes. I want potatoes. Make sure their good ones, none of that mashed rubbish."

Pansy was still fussing with her hair. It looked positively hideous.

"Only if you fix my hair," she pleaded.

"Did I _give_ you permission to blackmail me?" Draco sneered. "Get me food, you whiny witch!"

"No!" Pansy exclaimed. "I will not! Get it yourself and get me some while you're at it!"

Draco glared at her, not moving.

"And you make sure you don't cover it with that horrid gravy you gave me last time!" she said. "That gave me the runs for a week!"

Draco chuckled. He would not be forgetting that for a long time. The wench had deserved it.

"I'm not getting you anything!" he snarled. "_DOBBY!_"

There was a crack and Pansy looked up, startled. A small elf wearing a knitted hat with pigtail pompoms and frilly lining appeared out of nowhere, looking terrified and holding his legs together as though trying not to wet himself. He was tugging hopelessly at the bright pink tie around his neck, staring at Draco as though prepared to be kicked.

"Dobby, get me potatoes," Draco demanded, still not moving from his position. "Big ones. Roast ones. With gravy. Use that gravy I saw Granger having an orgasm over last night at dinner."

Dobby stood for a moment, staring at his old master before he stood up straighter and narrowed his tennis ball sized green eyes. "Dobby does not take Master's orders anymore!" the house elf shrieked. "Dobby is a free elf!"

Draco growled and finally sat up, pulling out his wand. "I was afraid you'd say that!"

But Dobby had already disappeared. Groaning and ignoring his groaning stomach, Draco returned to his position on the couch, pleased that it was still as comfortable as it had been a moment ago and feeling triumphant that he know had his wand in his hand.

"What was it that you wanted to eat, Parkinson?" he asked kindly.

Pansy looked at him suspiciously. "I want apricots. Lots of apricots."

"Accio apricots!" Draco called to the room, holding out his wand. "Accio potatoes! Accio gravy!"

Draco was very satisfied five minutes later when a large dish of potatoes and a jug of gravy flew through the solid wall and landed in his lap. It was closely followed by a bowl of juicy apricots landing on the table where Pansy's wand had sat an hour earlier.

Pansy let out a great groan and moved onto her knees, ready to crawl to fetch her lunch.

Draco carefully cut his potatoes and began to eat, praising the man who discovered the glorious vegetable. He even praised Hermione Granger for introducing him to the pleasure the gravy created.

Placing the remaining food on the floor, Draco once more closed his eyes and delighted in the weekend and the laziness it allowed him to practice.

**_GLUTTONY..._**

Draco had cravings. No, actually, this was more than a craving. This was an addiction.

He prayed for the day to end so he could dash to the Great Hall for dinner and indulge in some of the gravy that had his insides buzzing with need. He caught Blaise Zabini watching him closely across the Transfiguration classroom and glared; the darker boy had worked him out already and it had only been a week. Draco highly suspected it was because Blaise had been beside him when he loudly and crudely expressed his distaste at there being no gravy available for lunch.

Draco impatiently tapped his wand against the table top and let out a whimper when his stomach gave a great growl. In his protest at there being no gravy, he had not eaten anything for lunch. Therefore, Draco was more than satisfied when the bell rang and he dashed from the room, leaving behind three books and a roll of parchment in his haste.

He bumped into several people on his way down to the Great Hall, one first year actually fell over, though Draco did not notice because his mind was on one thing and one thing only: gravy.

Reaching the doors to the Great Hall, Draco breathed a sigh of relief, not caring that he was out of breath. Heading in, he headed to the Slytherin table where he was relieved to see the thing that had caused him great frustration all day: gravy.

Sitting down, he pulled two slices of meat and and a potato on his plate before proceeding to smother them with a very thick layer of gravy.

"Having some meat with your gravy there, Draco?" Blaise smirked, taking his seat beside the blonde Slytherin, who was already shoveling down his meal at a furious pace. "Remember to chew before swallowing."

Draco glared at Blaise as he paused to take a sip of pumpkin juice. He then proceeded to pour more gravy onto his food, added a few roast potatoes and continued to consume the food – this time in a much less urgent manner.

"You do realise that that gravy is for sharing, don't you, Draco?" Blaise continued, grabbing the jug and pouring a small amount onto his own potatoes.

Draco did not respond, he merely shrugged and continued to eat.

"It's really not like you to dig into a meal like this –"

"What do you know?" Draco sneered, grabbing two more pieces of meat, another potato and some of what he presumed was a mixed salad.

"I was speaking to Pansy earlier," Braise said, not letting up on the conversation. "She was expressing her concern at the amount you have been eating. She fears you might gain weight."

"I'm not gaining any weight, Zabini," Draco snarled. "I can eat all I want and still be the handsome man I've always been. Besides, who says I'm concerned about her being concerned? The wench might actually leave me alone if I put on some pounds!"

"That's why you're doing this?" Blaise chuckled. "Well I'm relieved, I thought you might have just been depressed."

"Depressed?" Draco snarled before giving a small chuckle. "I'm doing this because this damn gravy tastes so good!"

Blaise frowned and took a bite of meat after dipping it in the gravy. "You must have some incredible taste buds Draco because this doesn't have any taste at all."

Draco looked at him incredulously before looking over at the Gryffindor table. "Granger seems to like it…"

Blaise gave a snort and looked over at the Gryffindor know-it-all. She did indeed seem to be enjoying the gravy just as much as his friend. Looking back, Blaise looked at his friend in questioning. "Since when are your eating habits related to that Mudblood?"

Draco choked. "I was just saying that maybe it tastes like rubbish to you but some of the people in this Hall do like it."

Blaise remained silent, watching his friend as he gobbled down several more slices of meat and the remainder of his salad. He was awfully surprised when Draco grabbed six pieces of bread and used them to mop up the remaining gravy and eat every last bite with relish.

"You're done then?" Blaise said just as Pansy joined them. She looked at Draco's empty plate and let out a sob.

"Draco, you're going to make yourself fat!" she cried.

"I'm incapable of getting fat, Parkinson," Draco sneered. "I have every right to enjoy my food."

"But you're so attractive and you're eating way too much –"

"Pansy, why don't you tuck in and eat more than three leaves of lettuce and a carrot?" Draco snarled. "Then you'll be able to look in the mirror and know what remotely attractive looks like."

Pansy stared blankly at the boy she fancied. Her brow was furrowed in confusion and Draco knew that he would have probably left the table before she worked out what he had meant.

Pouring himself another goblet of pumpkin juice, Draco slowly drank and watched Pansy cut up her tomato carefully. He could almost see the cogs working in his head as she counted the calories and tried to work out how much of the tomato to eat to meet her daily limit.

Looking away and focusing on his surrounding he noticed the abandoned gravy jug and grinned when he saw there was still some remaining in there.

Grabbing the jug, he spilled it onto his plate and hearing an exasperated sigh from Blaise beside him, he grabbed another slice of bread and drowned it in the pool of riches.

Once he had eaten it, he turned to Blaise, who was looking thoroughly disgusted. "Let's head back to the common room."

They each looked at Pansy who had eaten a single slice of her tomato and was now looking at the rest hesitantly. Casting a disbelieving look at each other, the boys stood and headed from the room, Draco holding his stomach as it gave a horrible squirm.

As they ended the dungeon corridor, Blaise looked at him uncertainly. "I knew you weren't doing yourself any good. No one should eat that much food – or that much gravy. You are going to make yourself extremely sick."

Turning a corner, Draco gagged. Hermione Granger was standing with her hand supporting the wall and a pool of sick by her feet. She was shaking horribly and as Draco was just holding back the urge to be sick himself, she retched and Draco had to look away for fear of emptying his own stomach completely.

The sound was enough though. Blaise hurriedly jumped out of the way as Draco vomited, swaying in his place. Blaise hurriedly grabbed his arm to support him and with a quick flick of his wand, the contents of Draco's stomach disappeared from the stone floor. A moment later and Draco found a goblet of water being put in his hand.

Drinking it down, he looked up and looked at Granger who had also cleaned up her mess and was leaning with her back against the wall, regaining her composure.

"Come on," Draco muttered, heading further down the corridor and cursing his stomach for being so weak. He was bound to be hungry again in an hour. As they passed by Granger, Draco gave her a curt nod but it only made him feel dizzy and he had to grab a firm hold of Blaise's upper arm to try and steady himself.

"Well I know classes are finished for the day but I think we learnt one extra tonight," Blaise said. "That gravy may taste delicious but gluttony only makes us suffer."

Draco gave a groan and he was sure he heard Granger do the same.

**_PRIDE..._**

Draco woke when his stomach couldn't take being hungry any longer. It was the weekend again and Draco was happy to greet it. It had been a horrible week; whether it be his gravy addiction sending his entire concentration level to it's limits or the stomach upset caused by said gravy addiction, Draco felt this week had been one of the worst he'd come to experience.

Pushing back the covers, Draco took off the boxer shorts he'd worn to bed and stumbled over to the mirror to see if his facial complexion was still suffering from his recent sickness. He smirked proudly at his own reflection when he saw that he looked as handsome as ever.

Oh yes, Draco Malfoy knew he was a handsome young man. His face was pale and flawless but in a manner than suited him and his jaw was set and chiseled. His grey eyes glittered with an outline of blue and he knew that they drove girls like Pansy absolutely wild.

Looking at his own chest, he ran a hand over the hardness of it, feeling the slight, but sexy, muscle that resided there. His Quidditch training regime was certainly paying off. His shoulders were quite broad and greatly complimented his lightly toned arms. He had very little hair on his body, though, being a medium shade of blonde it was hard to tell. The only telltale signs of hair were on his legs and on his abdomen when a perfect, thin trail ran downwards to another part of his anatomy that he was more than proud of.

Draco smirked wider. If girls knew he had _that_, they'd be swarming to share his bed. Not that they weren't already.

Sweeping his silky blonde hair out of his eyes, Draco gave a cocky grin and went to grab a fresh towel from his trunk. He heard a snort from behind him and was not surprised to see Theodore Nott standing there in only an emerald green towel.

"You're an arrogant piece of work, Malfoy," Nott announced. "I'm amazed you're not showing more obvious signs of being turned on by yourself."

Draco sneered. "Just because _I_ can look at myself in the mirror without it breaking," he said. "I doubt you've looked in a mirror for years otherwise you'd know why Lavender Brown doesn't want anything to do with you."

Nott scowled and Draco wrapped the towel around his waist before heading to the bathroom. In there, he smirked at himself in the mirror once more before he turned of the faucet and proceeded to wash his perfect body.

An hour later, Draco sat in the Great Hall aggressively pushing his muesli around his bowl. Pansy was across from him, complaining about the lack of decent fruit on the table. He looked up desperately when Blaise took the seat beside him.

"Good to see you're having milk instead of gravy with your muesli there, Draco," Blaise smirked. "Did you wake up this morning and find that you actually respect your health and body? Or was it _love_ for your own body rather than respect?"

Draco looked at him sharply. "Nott told you?"

Blaise smirked. "Indeed he did and I must inform you that you really are as conceited as he believes you to be."

"I am a proud man, Zabini," Draco stated smugly. "I look in the mirror and know that I have a body that is everything any woman could want. Even Granger."

"Again with Granger?" Blaise smirked. "First you share her addictions and then you go to lengths to convince yourself she'd want you? Am I misreading this trend?"

"I hardly need to convince myself, Blaise," Draco sneered. "Even people as conceited as Granger can see I am the sexiest man in this school."

"Oh you're the sexiest man _alive_, Draco, not just the sexiest man in this school!" Pansy cried, batting her eyelashes and causing Draco to lose his appetite and push his bowl away.

Draco noticed Blaise looking at him suspiciously. "What?!"

"You're really not bothered by people believing you're an arrogant prick?"

"It's who I am," Draco drawled as he stood and swaggered out of the hall. Pansy shrieked and followed him.

"I'm going to the library, Parkinson," he said as they exited the Great Hall. "Surely you don't want to join me there?"

Pansy screwed up her face and shook her head before giving him a peck on the cheek (Draco grimaced) and running away towards the dungeons. Climbing the stairs, Draco was pleased to reach the confines of the library where he sat and stared at himself in a glass cabinet.

"Malfoy, please look away from that cabinet, I would prefer it not to break; the noise will certainly break my concentration."

Draco looked around and saw Granger standing by the bookshelf closest to him. "You know I'm a sexy beast, Granger," he smirked. "I see it in your Mudblood eyes every single day. You want me. Admit it. Though unfortunately for you I don't do dirty blood."

"Your overconfidence overwhelms me," Granger scoffed. "Looked in a mirror lately? You'll see nothing but a snide piece of work that needs a good makeover."

Draco briskly stood up. "Your opinion of me means _nothing_ to me, Granger," he sneered.

"Yes because it seems your opinion of yourself is so strong that no-one else's would ever weaken it," Granger hissed. "Well I've got news for you, Malfoy. This whole school, minus your snakey little friends, find your pride is misplaced for we all feel that you have little reason to be so full of yourself. You're cruel and demeaning and not nearly as attractive as you might think. You have very little good quality."

And with that the Gryffindor stuck her nose in the air and stalked off.

"You're just as conceited as I am, Granger!" Draco called with a sneer. "And you have even less reason to be than I do!"

Granger turned around, her wand raised. "Open that foul mouth of yours again and you'll find yourself lacking something that should forever put a dampener on your ego, Malfoy!"

Draco glared at her and with one last contemptuous look, she let her wand fall to her side and she left.

Angrily, Draco slumped back into his chair, slamming a fist into the table and glaring at himself in the reflection produced by the cabinet. He hated that filthy Mudblood and the words she spat his way. He would get her back, even if it was the last thing he did.

Staring at himself, he picked his assault in his head and smirked. Merlin, he was a smart young man, he was bound to make her regret having an opinion.

**_GREED..._**

He hated her. He was a Malfoy! He had every right to be proud! How dare she contradict that?

Sadly, Draco knew it would take time to revise a plan completely. But in a way, that suited him fine; the longer he waited, the less she would expect his retaliation.

The next day was a day he could happily spend in Hogsmeade and he did so. Grabbing his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, he headed up the lane that led to the wizarding village and made in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. He refused to go shopping without a warm butterbeer resting pleasantly in his stomach.

Finding a table, he took a seat and greedily took in Madam Rosmerta's cleavage as she came into sight. Draco doubted any young Hogwarts boy wouldn't have responded to her in the same way; Draco himself had had many fantasies involving the older woman over the years.

"What would you three like?" she asked.

"Three warm butterbeers," Draco said, handing out the money for his own. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him stupidly. "I'm not paying for you two buffoons!"

Crabbe and Goyle grunted and made to pull the coins from their pockets. Five minutes later, Draco was savouring the wonderful feeling of the warm drink smoothly sliding down his throat. He sighed happily.

His happiness did not last, however, when Blaise came over and took a seat beside him. "I'm warning you, the Goblin Society is after money. They're coming around with tins and they're not taking no for an answer."

Draco scowled. He loved his money and he felt little need to donate it to some society of magical creatures who didn't agree to obey wizard law. Draco grimaced when he heard Hermione Granger's squeal of. "Why yes! Of course I'll give you ten galleons!–" There was a sound of several heavy coins hitting tin "- Ron, pull out your pockets, it goes to such a good cause."

Draco snorted. Like a Weasley could help out any society! He didn't have a knut to spare!

"Here they come," Blaise muttered as he took out a sickle as an aged, hunched goblin came scuffling towards them. He was wearing a yellow hat and robes and on his feet he appeared to be wearing wooden slippers

"Would you please donate some money to the Goblin society?" he asked in a rich, wheezing accent.

Blaise dropped the sickle into the tin and looked at the others.

"I'm not giving you idiots a knut!" Draco snarled to the goblin. "I don't see how it could possibly be worth it!"

The goblin stared at him, raising a finger as though ready to curse him. Draco glared back, holding his wand under his coat. He grabbed a firmer hold on it when he heard Granger's mutter behind them.

"Malfoy is so greedy! All that money and he can't spare a knut! He's so selfish and … and _greedy_!"

"Didn't you hear me, Goblin?" Draco questioned with a snarl. "I'm not giving your lousy society anything! You've given me no reason to ever want to –"

"We goblins are a powerful influence in your world, boy," the goblin wheezed. "You should do well to respect that."

Draco stood up, his wand raised. "Well I don't respect it," he said. "Now get out my face. My money is mine!" Draco lunged forward and seized hold of the tin, pulling it from the goblin's hand. "And now this money is also; you'll do well to respect _that_."

The goblin gave Draco one more venomous stare before hurrying away.

"Granger's right," Braise said calmly. "You're not just conceited. You're greedy."

Draco looked at Blaise incredulously. "This money is just as much mine as it was his!"

Braise just stared at him for a moment. "I look forward to your explanation is to how that is so."

There was a great sound of struggling from the table behind them.

"Hermione stay still!" Ron Weasley's cried. He was obviously trying to keep his friend from getting up. "Killing him will only get you in trouble."

"That greedy thief!" the Gryffindor girl shrieked. "I'll do more than just kill him! The goblins need that money! He doesn't!"

Draco yawned and stood up. Looking down at the struggling girl, he held back a laugh and grabbed a galleon from the tin he'd just stolen. Throwing it at her, it hit her square in the head and she screamed, looking murderous.

"There's the deposit for that room in St Mungos," Draco smirked. "Make sure it's the closed ward you sign yourself into, won't you?"

Hermione shrieked and tried to stand up. Harry and Ron struggled to keep a hold of her.

With a final smirk, Draco and his friends left the pub and Draco felt even more than proud of himself due to his day's efforts.

**_ENVY..._**

Draco Malfoy was a proud man but when it came to watching Granger in class, he was more than angry, more than murderous. Draco Malfoy was jealous.

Yes, that was right, he was jealous of the Mudblood. She sat there with her perfect friends, she answered every question perfectly, she had perfect grades and she had the perfect ability to get whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. He envied her. But he would never admit it.

No, Draco was much too proud to admit it so instead he convinced himself it was anger; anger that she was always right, anger that she always did better than him, anger that her friends were so loyal. Anger that she was perfect.

Draco sat in his Potions class and the whole time he had been trying to brew the concoction set to them in class, he had been glaring in her direction, wishing her dead, wishing that for once he would be able to better her.

Draco still planned to get at her, make her regret being so damn conceited and opinionated and his current envy of her only made the anger boil up in him more. He wanted to bring her down. She did not deserve to be seated on that pedestal of hers.

"Tomorrow," he muttered to himself, though he still did not have a proper plan.

**_WRATH..._**

The next day was a Friday and it dawned with Draco cornering Granger in the library.

"I wouldn't open that opinionated mouth of yours if I were you, Granger," he snarled in warning.

"You think I'm afraid of you Malfoy?" she replied loftily, drawing her wand. "You're nothing but a coward who cares about nothing but himself."

Draco growled angrily and drew his wand on her. Oh how he had hoped she would disobey him.

"I told you not to speak, Mudblood!"

"Call me Mudblood again, Malfoy and you'll wish you'd been more sensitive," Granger snapped.

"Go ahead Granger, do your best!"

They cried it at the same time: "Petrificus Totalus!" The spells rebounded in midair and hit the shelves surrounding them.

"Reparo!" Granger cried, pointing her wand at a shelf that had snapped. This made Draco even more furious. How dare she even be perfect now – while he was trying to fight her.

"_Rictasempra!_"

Hermione dodged the charm and sent one of her own, hitting him in the chest and sending him flying backwards eight feet to land on his back.

Draco growled as he stumbled back onto his feet. "You filthy little –"

Granger gave her wand a wild flick and Draco's eyes widened and his hands fell to his crutch, desperately seeking out what was causing the horrid sensation. He was terrified to discover she'd somehow taken his manhood.

"Vanishing Charm," Granger smirked and with another flick of her wand Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the sensation was lifted and he regained his masculinity. Salvaging his composure, he felt the anger boil up once more and he sent several hexes her way in a matter of three seconds, but to his disappointment she managed to dodge them all.

Draco was beyond amazed and in his frustration of being so angry with her, he flew aside his wand, grabbed her by the upper arms and pushed her into the closest bookshelf, never letting go.

**_LUST..._**

Draco vaguely registered that slamming her against the shelf was a mistake. His body was pressed against hers and he could feel her quickened breathing against his face. He looked at her with narrowed eyes and was satisfied when he noticed that she looked quite terrified.

He had put her in her place.

"As much as I enjoy having your body against mine, Malfoy," she hissed suddenly, gathering some calm. "I can hardly breathe."

"You're enjoying this?" Draco questioned. Her words had startled him. He suddenly became aware that perhaps this wasn't the place he'd wanted to put her at all.

Granger gave him a mocking smile. "Why of _course_," she scoffed. "How on earth could I resist your charm?"

Draco panicked; he knew she was poking fun at the situation but this was certainly not how he had wanted her to react. She was supposed to be writhing and thrashing against him, screaming, _trying to get away_. She was supposed to be spitting in his face…

It was then that Draco realised that perhaps Hermione Granger was more perfect than he originally acknowledged but this time … this time he didn't feel envy, or anger or pride. No, this time he himself acknowledged something that terrified him.

_He wanted her._

In a vision he saw her indulging in the gravy one evening in the Great Hall and remembering the pleasure he got from watching her enjoy it, urging him to want some himself. He then saw her in the library mocking him and the way he had hated her being the one who said those things about him. He saw himself in the Three Broomsticks wanting to prove her right, prove that he was greedy, all because he knew it would satisfy him to see her angry and fiery. He'd even conspired to anger her more by confronting her here, now in the library.

He hated her being perfect. He hated her being his vision of perfect.

He wanted her.

Draco let go of her and stumbled back, staring at her. Granger looked confused as she pulled her body from the bookshelf. He became aware of her body and realised that for years he'd been aware of her body and aware of the way she had changed.

He looked away from her, not wanting to pay too much attention to her chest, which was rising and falling rapidly, not wanting to pay too much attention to the way she was watching him with curiosity, her lips hanging slightly (and deliciously) apart.

Draco stumbled back several more steps before turning and dashing away, not wanting her to see his reaction to her. It was ten minutes letter in the quiet of his own room that he furiously relieved himself before sitting back and giving himself a mental kick.

_He wanted her?_

The concept was positively terrifying.


End file.
